“He uses women.”
I roll my eyes. “So? Tell me something I don’t know about guys.”
“I mean it,” Alex says. “He’ll suck the life out of you.”
“So he’s a little conceited. He’s an actor. What do you expect?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
He is silent. I can see that he’s holding something back. But I’m not in the mood for his warnings, especially not for someone to play the role of big brother for me. If he could’ve seen me only a few months ago, he wouldn’t worry.
“Alex, I hear you. But enough, okay? It’s my life.”
“Okay, okay.” He lifts his hands as if he’s going to back off.
“What is it between you two anyway?” I ask. “Why do you hate him so much?”
“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”
“I don’t understand. Is it this whole competitive running thing?”
“Not exactly. But for the record, I could beat him at Cloudline. It’s never been about winning for me. I’m just not as—as bloodthirsty.”
Alex seems so earnest, and I like that he runs for the love of it, like I do. Suddenly I realize that even though Roman is the one I want to be out having dinner with, I’d rather be running with Alex. So I ask him: “If I try to run Cloudline, would you train with me?”
“Really?” He brightens.
“Really.”
“You bet.” He smiles at me and stands up again. “Well, back to work. I’ll call you at the store sometime and we can set up a time to run.”
“Okay.”
I try to finish eating my burrito, but I find myself looking around the room, wondering if anyone heard us, wondering who might be watching me right now. Wondering who might come up to me tomorrow and say, So, I hear you’re training for Cloudline with Alex. Today, for the first time, I’m getting the feeling that there is something different about Lithia, something that remains unsaid. I feel as though there’s a secret here that everyone knows but me. I worry that it might be very important for me to find out what it is.
~
The knock on my door startles me. Normally, I can hear footsteps on the brick walkway that leads up to the cottage, like when Stacey comes by with food or to pick me up for a run. But I hear a dog barking next door, which is probably what muffled the footsteps.
I peek out the little porthole window on the door and see Roman standing there. I swing open the door. He is dressed in black, as usual, and I feel underdressed. I still have only one thing that’s not jeans or running gear—the cotton dress that Stacey bought for me—and while I went shopping at a consignment store for decent shoes, I couldn’t find anything that wasn’t leather. So I’m still wearing the Brooks.
“You want to come in?” I step aside, holding the door wide open.
Roman takes a cautious step into the room.
“I’d give you the master tour,” I say, “but the west wing is under renovation.”
“Your maid’s quarters as well? The help is apparently on an extended vacation.” He is looking at the clothing scattered over the bed, mostly shorts and running socks. I did laundry that morning but haven’t had time to put anything away.
“So I’m a bit sloppy. You’re the bachelor—I can only imagine what your place looks like. By the way, where do you live?”
“Up the hill a bit.”
“What street?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I’ve run on every street in town. I bet I’ve seen your house.”
“I live on Highview Street.”
“At the bottom, middle, or top?”
“Top.”
“Near that castle?”
“In that castle.”
“You live in the castle? The one on the corner?” I can’t believe it. Every time I pass by, I stare up at it until I nearly trip myself. “It’s gigantic.”
“I like having my space. And I like the peace and quiet.”
“Me, too,” I say. “That’s why I selected this cottage, for the space and the quiet.” Then I have to laugh because now there’s a whole chorus of barking dogs in the neighborhood. “I can’t believe you live there. Every time I run by, I wonder what deposed king lives in that place.”
“No,” he says. “Just me.” Roman’s very serious, I’m realizing, not easygoing and quick to smile like Alex. Stop comparing them, I tell myself. You’re here on a date with Roman. Not Alex.
“So why do you need a home that large?”
“Nobody needs a home that large. I’m renting it from a friend.”
“Who owns it?”
“A deposed king.”
“Really?”
“No,” he says, his eyes showing amusement at my expense. Why is it that the only time he shows a sense of humor, it’s at my expense? “It’s owned by a wealthy acquaintance of mine who resides in the Balkans. I’m a caretaker of sorts.”
“It must be one of the oldest houses in town.”
“It is the oldest house in town. Built with gold money. Before people discovered the water, Lithia was best known for its gold.”
“The Lost Mine Trail,” I say. “I’m guessing that was a gold mine?”
He nods. “You’ve run it?”
“I’m just getting started. Where’s the actual mine?”
“You’ll never find it.”
“Why not?”
“It has been sealed for years. Shall we go?”
Roman’s dress shoes make sharp noises on the bricks as we walk to the street, and I want to ask him how he managed to sneak up to the cottage so quietly. But I think better of it, since I don’t know him very well and he doesn’t laugh very easily. Better to save my weird little questions, especially those that could be taken the wrong way, until at least the second date.
He stops when we reach the street and turns to me. “You look stunning, by the way.”
“Thank you.” Somehow, I didn’t expect this. I’ve been getting the feeling, even though he asked me out, that he’s not all that interested, that something’s in the way. And to think I’m stunning in this dress, with these shoes, is a bit of a stretch—but still. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I add, a little shyly.
We stroll over to Main Street. I’m hoping he might take my hand, but he doesn’t, though sometimes, when we need to make way for other people on the sidewalk, my shoulder brushes his arm. Though Stacey confirmed that he’s the fastest runner in town, he walks slowly, and I find I have to keep restraining my pace. I tend to walk fast, always have. I don’t like to walk slowly, to give people a chance to notice me.
But Roman doesn’t mind being noticed. He seems to enjoy it, in fact. Women ogle him as we walk by, and a couple times I see them glance over at me as if to wonder, What’s he doing with her? Roman nods to a few people, exchanges the occasional hello, all as if he’s perfectly comfortable being treated like a celebrity.
“So where are we going?” I ask. As if I’m right on cue, he stops and opens a pretty glass door with the word Encore stenciled across it in fancy lettering. We’re seated at a table near a large picture window, overlooking Lithia Creek.
“Have you eaten here yet?” Roman asks.
“No. I’ve hardly eaten anywhere but the co-op.”
I look around. It’s the nicest restaurant I’ve ever been to in my life. The place is about half full, and I can hear soft jazz music playing. The tables are covered with fine linen, and the candles give everyone a warm look, even Roman, who is strikingly pale.
I have to squint to read my menu in the dim light. Someone comes by with a wine list, and Roman orders a bottle of something I can’t pronounce. I don’t tell him I’m not twenty-one or that I don’t drink alcohol—he doesn’t seem to notice, or care.
He returns to his menu, retreating into silence. I’m wondering whether he’s so quiet because he basically talks for a living, because his job is all about words and how he says them. Maybe he just likes
to say nothing when he’s not on the stage. I want to ask him, but don’t know how. So I hide behind my menu.
Then I realize I’ve made a major mistake coming here.
I hadn’t noticed when we walked in that this is a steakhouse. I see on the menu that there is seafood, too. But as I scan the menu looking for a vegan option, or even something vegetarian, I see nothing. Nothing but the house salad and a couple of side dishes.
It’s actually not a problem to order a salad, with a side of roasted potatoes or Swiss chard, but of course the vegetables are probably slathered in butter, and I haven’t eaten butter since I’ve been in Lithia. But what gets me is that no one ever thinks about the fact that vegans like to eat good food, too, that we don’t just eat lettuce and hemp granola. Is it really so hard to come up with a faux-meat alternative to steak? A pasta dish that’s not dripping with cream or accompanied by shrimp or sausage? I close the menu, not bothering to hide my disgust.
“Is something wrong?” Roman asks. “Have you found nothing you like?”
“I guess you could say that,” I say.
He closes his menu and looks at me. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m a vegan. I probably should have told you earlier.”
“Is this a recent development?”
“Sort of. I’ve been a vegetarian since I was eight, but lately, because of my—well, because I’ve been traveling a lot, I haven’t been able to be very consistent. I mean, no one’s perfect, but it’s always been important to me. So I promised myself that as soon as I got settled, I’d become vegan.”
“So since you’ve been here, you haven’t had any meat, dairy, eggs, nothing?”
“Not since my first night here. And it’s been really easy so far. I’m surprised there’s nothing on this menu, in fact. You’d think they’d have at least one vegan option.”
“It’s a steakhouse, Katherine. That’s what they do.”
“But think about it—it’s good business. Vegan dishes are a fraction of the cost of these steaks. A place like this could make tons of money off people like me who come in here with carnivores like you.”
He gives me a tolerant smile. “I’m sorry, Katherine. I should have asked where you might prefer to eat. It frankly did not occur to me that you wouldn’t like steak.”
He sounds so sincere that I feel bad for making a fuss. “Oh, it’s okay. I should’ve told you anyway. I wasn’t thinking.”
The waiter returns to pour the wine. Roman swirls it in the glass, a deep, blood-red color, and takes a sip, giving the waiter an approving look. The waiter fills my glass, and I don’t stop him.
“I have an idea,” Roman says, after the waiter leaves. “Just for tonight.”
“What’s that?”
“Why don’t you take a break from your diet? Try the steak.”
“Take a break? This is not a fad diet, Roman. It’s the way I live.”
“But you said yourself that you’re not perfect. Nobody’s perfect. Besides, the cows are free range, grass fed. They don’t suffer.”
“Until they’re slaughtered.”
“True. But everyone dies sometime.” I can tell he’s trying to make light of the situation, the way many people do when my choice makes them think about their own, but I’m not taking the bait.
“The thing is, it’s easy to rationalize anything if you try hard enough. It’s free range. Humanely killed. Guilt free, right? That’s what everyone wants—to eat meat and not have to feel guilty about it. But in trying to remove the guilt from the equation, you actually acknowledge that the guilt is there to begin with. And the only truly guilt-free meat is none at all.”
Roman is now squinting at me, his eyes looking darker than ever. I’ve blown it, I realize; I’ve ruined our entire evening. I tend to get overly excited about this stuff, and now I wish I’d gone easier on him. No one wants to be lectured to, especially when they’ve gone to the trouble of taking you out to a beautiful restaurant, even if it is one that’s not vegetarian friendly. I sigh, starting to prepare myself for an early end to what I hoped would be a long evening.
“That tree-hugger got to you, didn’t he?” Roman asks, accusingly.
“Who?”
“Alex.”
“This has nothing to do with Alex. I decided this before I ever met him.”
“Katherine, runners need protein. I know this, and you should know this.”
“I get plenty of protein. I get it from tempeh, tofu, nuts, bread, soy milk, vegetables, all sorts of foods. You should try it.”
“Please.” He looks as if I’ve just asked him to give up food altogether. Which is what a lot of people think happens when you become a vegan.
“Why not? It’s good for you. Have you ever gone a single day without being a carnivore?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighs. “It means no.”
“Then maybe it’s time you tried something new. C’mon. Why don’t we both order off the menu, shake this place up a bit.”
I’m trying to steer the evening back on track. I want to salvage it somehow. Roman is looking a little annoyed with me, but at the same time, it only makes him seem more attractive. Those furrowed brows, the dark eyes. The set of his mouth. I definitely don’t want this evening to end too soon.
“What about Stacey?” he asks. “What does she think?”
“What does she have to do with this?” Maybe this isn’t about my being a vegan at all. Maybe there is a lot more to these two than either of them is letting on.
“She eats meat.”
“So? And how would you know that anyway?”
“It’s—”
“—a small town,” I finish for him. “I know, I know. Everybody knows everything about everyone.”
“Evidently, there are still a few things I do not know about you.”
A waiter stands before our table. “Are we ready to order?”
I pick up a piece of bread from the basket. “This will do it for me, thank you.”
Roman’s eyes flare and he dismisses the waiter with a wave of his hand. “I like you, Katherine. I thought we had a connection. I asked you out so I could know you better. I’m not so sure we have a connection after all.”
“What, because I’m a vegan? You’re going to reject me because of that?”
“I’m saying that you are the first.”
“Maybe this is good for you. Maybe you need to expand your horizons a little bit.”
“Perhaps,” he says. He begins to swirl the wine in his glass again, and I pick up my own glass and take a sip. It is strong and rich and really quite good.
“However,” Roman continues, “have you ever considered the possibility that your movement is wrong? That humans are indeed supposed to be carnivores? Have you thought about how widespread vegetarianism might impact the survival of your species?”
I think I’ve heard him wrong, or else these two sips of wine have gone to my head already. “You mean our species.”
“Of course I mean our species. I am just wondering where vegans fit in.”
And all of a sudden, I am tired of defending myself. I am tired of trying to justify what has been so natural for me, ever since I was young. And I don’t like the fact that Roman can’t accept me for who I am.
“Maybe you’d be happier with someone like Stacey,” I say, before I can stop myself. “Maybe you’re better off with someone whose mind you can change.”
And with that, I stand up. My napkin falls to the floor, and I pick it up and drop it on the table as Roman starts to get to his feet. “Don’t get up,” I tell him. “I’ll see myself home.”
“Katherine, please. I didn’t mean to offend. I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t care what you want.” As I’m about to walk away, I pause and say, “For the record, Alex is a great runner, veggie and all.”
Roman seems to brush this off. “He’s never beaten me.”
“Maybe he will at Cloudline. Maybe I will.”
I’m out the door before Roman can respond. And then I’m on Main Street, walking home, as quickly as I can in the dark. I keep waiting to feel a hand on my shoulder, to hear my name shouted from behind. But nothing happens.
I look back twice, but Roman is not behind me. I’m a little disappointed that he doesn’t find me worth following, worth chasing after. It’s just as well, I tell myself. I know that this would never have worked. The fact is, while I’m angry that Roman wants me to change, deep down I would like him to change, too. Like David said, I want to be with someone who loves animals the way I do, who cares about the planet, who doesn’t eat meat because he believes, like I do, that every meal really can make a difference.
But now I will never find out whether we might have found some common ground, or whether it wouldn’t have mattered in the end. I ruined the entire evening before it began, making a complete mess of what could have been an elegant meal, a romantic night. I could have simply ordered off the menu and put my stubborn tendencies to rest, for a night. Just one night. I could have done so many things differently—not just tonight but so many other times.
I hurry home, aware of all of Lithia’s shadows around me, of the sounds of the trees sighing as I walk past. It’s as if they’re sighing in resignation, sighing about me. As if they know, as I do, that I am becoming my own worst enemy.
Eight
Today is my last day at Lithia Runners, but while I don’t know what I’ll do for money, I have to admit that it might be for the best. Since my date with Roman, something has changed between Stacey and me, and not for the better. She’s never asked me about it, for one thing, and she doesn’t even know it was a total disaster. But I definitely get the feeling she doesn’t want me to be seeing Roman. Stacey and Alex both.
I want to ask her about it, but it’s so awkward being around her now that I don’t know what to say. I have a hard time with this sort of thing. After my mother died, I grew up in self-defense mode, and I sometimes think that this is the reason I have a hard time communicating with people on certain levels. That is, I don’t really know how to be close to anyone.
Most of all, it makes me sad. Stacey no longer jokes around with me. We still run together, but when we lace up for our evening runs, she hardly says a word other than You ready? or Let’s go or Hurry up, it’s getting dark. It’s as if going running with me has become one of the chores she does in the store every day.
Out of Breath Page 5
